The Black Ribbon
by DianaCennar
Summary: Betrayal, heartbreak, drama, horror, what happens after the storm? A Phantom of the Opera one-shot.


Appearances are deceitful little things. In the cold social world they work wonders; need I even name all the situations that went in my favor just because of charms and handsome smiles? However heaven forbids that superficial gift to claim its power on all life's aspects.

A fact that I have come to loathe. So much in fact that I have dared to curse heaven itself. And perhaps that is why I am staring at my fiancée's heartbreaking demeanor. She's sitting by the doors of the balcony, staring intently at the clear night sky as the wind causes her hair to gently dance around her face, framing it. It is times like these when her beauty takes my breath away.

She sat still, not giving away one clue that she was not a perfectly carved statue. I have been informed by the maids that she have moved all day. In fact ever since I brought her here to my estate, she has never left this room. Her food untouched, her words unheard and her actions unseen, I am now beginning to become worried. At least she finally changed out of that calamitous wedding dress. Albeit hesitantly.

I walked into the room, taking gentle strides as to not startle her. Kneeling down in front of her I tried to look into her eyes. "Christine." I gently bid.

Slowly, she turned her face and looked at me. I could not interpret her emotions. What once was the shinning, spirited girl is now unreadable. My heart clenched and once again my mind cursed him.

"Christine," I tried again.

It was a while before she answered me, and when she did she struck me speechless.

"Yes Raoul?"

How was I to answer?

And when I failed to reply she turned her gaze once again up to the night sky. I followed suit.

The stars really are beautiful, drastic and brilliant against the dark abyss that is the night. However there was no trace of the moon, no trace of the light that shone against the dark.

And before I could try again to reach her, my attention was caught by a servant by the door.

"Master Raoul," he said, "There is someone here to see you."

"Thank you," I nodded once. The servant bowed and left.

I turned back to Christine, her gaze never faltering on the stars. And with a sigh, I got up and went out to see my mysterious visitor. Who can it be? It is so late into the night.

I was informed that he was out in the gardens and with a puzzled expression I bid thanks to the servant. Walking outside into the cold night's breeze I felt instantly rejuvenated, breathing in deeply I allowed the cold sharp air enter and fill my body, and breathing out hoping to release the haunting dread that has tormented me for the past ten days.

I glanced around as my eyes adjusted to the dark and my eyes set on a tall silhouette. Instantly I felt my stomach clench and a chill ran down my spine. Determined not to show any signs of weakness I stood my ground, walking to him and stopping just ten feet away. Looking straight at his face I calmly stated

"Can I help you Monsieur?"

And that was when he looked me in the eyes, and immediately I felt a twinge of pity and God forbid guilt. I recalled that fateful night on the Opera House roof, and Christine's voice echoed in my ear: "_And in his eyes, all the sadness of the world"_. And now I cannot help but agree.

The man standing in front of me had the impeccable façade of the Opera Ghost; with his elegant dressing and stark white porcelain mask. On the outside there reveals no break in character, however his eyes conveyed a very different story.

It is hard to describe a man who seemingly has his soul torn away from him, broken was not a word that could do it justice.

"Is she well?" He asked. I cringed as his words registered in me.

"Not as well as I hope for her to be," I replied back, determined to not reveal the true state of her conduct. "Rest assured Monsieur she will be fully recovered soon."

He nodded.

For a long while we stood there in silence, neither willing to break and turn away. And then he held out his hand to reveal a satin black ribbon, tied into a perfect bow.

"One last favor Vitcome," he said, his eyes pleading. "Give this to her and tell her I am sorry, and that I would give my life if it means that I could turn back time and stop myself from ever breaking the pretense of angel."

Hesitantly I gave a small nod and took the ribbon. And without another second's pause I turned and walked into the house. Before closing the door I looked out once more into the garden, and saw no further trace of him. Slamming the door shut and locking it, I called my servant and told him to dispose of the ribbon.

Afterwards I walked back upstairs and headed straight for Christine's room, and paused once again at her door. Pondering back to the black ribbon, I forced back the guilt that was fervently surfacing. _It is for Christine's benefit_, I told myself. For the black ribbon symbolized the Phantom, his devotion, his adoration, his love. The red rose with the black ribbon used to always be Christine's most sought for award after her performances, and now…and now after all that has happened…no, no I will not allow another black ribbon to ever grace her sight again.

Taking quick strides I walked up to her and knelt down again in front of her.

"Christine," I said.

Slowly she turned to meet my eyes.

And without hesitation this time, I said

"Erik is dead."


End file.
